Poems classified as: Prose Poem

An out of the box genre of poetry that is written in prose instead of verse. But there is a difference! Prose poems maintain poetic qualities of grand imagery and emotional consequences. Being a fusion of poetry and prose, this genre is an interesting narrative to read. Prose poems can take you deep in the theme with its story-telling. A great genre to explore!

You Don’t

You Dont prose poem

I’m scrunched in partially obscured view seating, hands at my temples, elbows pressed to the balcony rail. Look up, Sherman Alexie! I squint through borrowed glasses, willing your signature pen to drop, your writer’s eyes to find me. I’m cheap.

The Gift Of You

The Gift Of You prose poem

I haven’t been able to sleep. What you said, perhaps just offhandedly, perhaps not really caring at all, has me wide awake lost in those silly impossible dreams and longings that overtake my being so often. You cannot know how

September

September prose poem

* September is a city of copper; It is the shape of ashes in the tale of the fire-bird. September is a waiting-hall between the bareness of ends and the beginnings of fig berries. So, my beloved substitutes her hair,

A Storm Of Fire

A Storm Of Fire prose poem

Spring time and rain blooming of flowers purple haze of a storm on the horizon gray is mixed above the cloudline memories of you and me becoming one as A Storm of Fire passion melting like fervent heat butterflies in

Wired

Wired prose poem

The cough syrup and amphetamine Don’t seem to mix, in nineteen-ninety Six, and I throw up in the Communal showers, from Impurities. The sight Of the silver fish helped. Tony, in room eight, no longer Around. Dragged his corpse From

Journeys

Journeys prose poem

Exhaustion is obvious on our foreheads why does blood leak instead of sweat? It’is flowing in the tears instead of veins. What anxiety is body experiencing? Why exhaustion is in the eyes? Where do we have to go? What are

Namaste

Namaste prose poem

I was always overwhelmed at the thought of learning yoga….. Not that there is a possibility of me becoming a yogi, Or snub all mundane things I love, and brag! The sight of people in tights and and tops, the

Thousand Wounds

Thousand Wounds prose poem

Thousand wounds beneath my heart Covered velvet cloth Never expressed on the face Hidden by thousand smiles At times laughs loudly Hides in pretentious way No clue to others Am a smiling fellow But footsteps of Attu Frighten me in

Once In Life

Once In Life prose poem

At least once in life do make a wish; not necessarily for returns, but for others an act of compassion; an offering.. more often it’ll be a reason to live life unconditionally… At least once in life do make an

The Stranger

The Stranger prose poem

There we met, at street seventy seventh; my friend who’d bowed down with altering features, and me with my clothes getting narrower. We could not find, in this chilly present, a tale to help us recline on the pavement’s stone.

I Must Be A Saint

I Must Be A Saint prose poem

Today, a man tried to kill me. He was arrested. The policeman already filled out a file. All he needed was my OK. I was OK. But I had nothing to complain. I was not even mad. Then they let

Lax

Lax prose poem

i get tired of the people red yellow black white you are precious but not mine i dont know the people you’re young are you married you’re old is there passion what is your preferred toothpaste rich or poor, can

Why Do You Run?

Why Do You Run? prose poem

Sound Many sounds Living sounds A world is built with sounds Who is speaking? There are emotions Is madness an emotion? The question A common noise Out of the endless loop of noise a sound emerges Can you hear it?

Bold Admissions

Bold Admissions prose poem

– Rise sun, oh, brightest star of them all. Take pity on the weary, for your power, intense heat and consistancy, can be exhausting; bringing high climaxes, and sweat upon one’s brow and often times showing no mercy. – Cast

The Rainbow Laundromat

The Rainbow Laundromat prose poem

Open twenty four seven proclaims the sign across the front door A warm refuge for the bergies dossing on the linoleum floor Fluorescent tube lights hum and flicker The homeless beg for food and hustle for cheap liquor The air